I didn't know what last night had meant to be, but it hadn't turned out as I had planned. The last two days had been a confusing ride, and last night it ended in another passionate night with a man I really shouldn't be sleeping with. 

It was just supposed to be fun. It had never meant to be anything deeper than just scratching an itch, but after last night, I questioned just how much we were keeping to that. I mean, we never really talked about what happened the first time... or the second time... but by the third time, I was pretty sure 'casual fucking' was in the picture.

But last night hadn't felt just casual.

The soreness of my body and my head spoke of that the next morning as I woke up, feeling completely satisfied, but also strangely... strange. A dangerous feeling, in my opinion.

Opening my eyes slowly, I blinked in the harsh sunlight and realized I had to have slept in again. A quick assessment of the bed told me Harry was up and awake before me as usual, probably already showered and down in his study, reading or calculating whatever—

The door across the room to my bathroom opened, and out walked Harry. I should've been used to seeing him coming out of the bathroom since I seemed to be three for three now, but I still wasn't. His daily schedule seemed to start half an hour before mine, but I sure didn't mind as I watched the show that started as he came out of the bathroom, looking quite edible.

"Do you ever sleep in?" I asked with a hoarse voice, spent from being used to moan repeatedly and breathlessly last night. At the sound of my voice, Harry peaked up as he started putting on his clothes from yesterday. I wondered if he had used my bath products, or the complementary ones that had been here when I came, like at a hotel.

"I try not to make a habit of it," He replied while buttoning up his shirt.

I bit my lip and watched him cover up his body. The same masculine body I had clung to last night... his somehow perfectly broad, but-not-too-broad shoulders, a perfect fit for his hips and height. His upper body which was just the right amount of defined to show he took care of himself without caring so much about six packs or eight packs and all that stuff. His pecs were firm and his arms were strong, strong enough to hold me last night when the last of my strength had expired as I had been on top of him, taking all of his length to the very hilt.

Looking at him all over again, I felt the soreness throb in my body with that extra masochistic urge to feel even more of it right this moment. I wondered what he would do if I rolled over and slid to my hands and knees and presented to him like some wanton dog... but even I had some pride, thank goodness me.

– Too bad I lacked shame and a filter, though.

"I wouldn't mind if we made this a habit," I now said, seeing him ignore my gaze, but listen to my words as he sat down on my divan to tie up his shoes. "In fact, I think it might even make me study harder. You said it yourself, sex is a stimulant."

"When used correctly. Yes," He replied with a subtle smile. Then, rising to his feet, he straightened out. "I don't think you would benefit from too much of it, though."

"Are you saying I'll become an addict?"

"That would be conceited of me to presume."

"But that is what you're saying, isn't it?"

"I'm saying you could benefit from some discipline," He said, fixing the last of his appearance with a few tweaks. Then, combing his hand through his hair, he walked towards me when I pursed my lips naughtily.

"I'm open to spanking if that's what you're suggesting," I smirked shamelessly and now rolled over on my stomach, letting my asscheek peak out from under the covers. I watched him over my shoulder as he shook his head slowly, but it definitely wasn't a no I was sensing coming from him.

It was only when he grabbed his phone off of the floor, which had to have fallen out of his pocket in last night's scuffle in bed, I sighed disappointedly when he turned for the door, after tucking the phone into his pants pocket.

"Get to work on those papers. Come down once you're done."

"Buzzkill," I muttered, but then rolled over on my stomach again and gathered the sheets around my body. I supposed I could use a break, even if that technically wasn't what I wanted. He might've been right. I was becoming a bit of an addict.

Which really wasn't good. Dangerous.

So, with some resolve, I got out of bed the second Harry walked out of my room, probably heading down to skip breakfast and head straight for work. As for myself, I desperately needed a shower and then three to four pounds of breakfast, at least.

And then I was going to take a third look at the papers he had given me before I officially gave up and admitted defeat.

For someone who wasn't tutoring me, he sure had me feeling like I was working as hard as a student trying to please her professor.

And wasn't that the euphemism of the day.

~~~

Four hours later, just around noon, I was about ready to rip my own head off. I had been staring at the papers he had given me, had tried to use the method he was suggesting, but I just couldn't understand it. I had come down with three possible conclusions why that was, and I wasn't happy about either of them.

Number one: I was simply too dumb to understand it. There was that.

Number two: His brain was superhuman and this wasn't meant to be understood by someone with a mortal brain like me. That was also sincerely beginning to become a real possibility.

And then there was number three – the far less likely possibility, but a possibility nonetheless: His math was incorrect in this paper and I had just spent two days trying to understand it and solve it.

But I hadn't been meant to solve it, had it? It had been to challenge me and my way of thinking... and maybe the message here was to show me how to recognize dead math and knowing when to stop trying to understand it.

I swear if that turned out to be the truth, someone was getting slapped today.

Marching down to his study, my flip flops aggressively flopped against my feet as I nearly slipped in my eager to get this riddle solved. I damn well slammed my fist against the door to his study as I finally made it to it and watched as it flew open.

Harry lifted his head and merely looked at me as I stood there in his door, arms crossed. Oh, he had definitely expected this, or maybe he was finally getting used to my outbursts.

"I'm not supposed to understand this at all, am I?" I asked, fiercely.

He slowly leaned back in his chair and watched me with a raised brow. "Aren't you?"

"Don't do that," I sneered and pointed my finger at him, rapidly walking towards him. I had spent two days grilling and twisting my brain trying to understand—telling myself I wasn't stupid and that I was just missing something obvious— that he wouldn't have given me papers that were a literal dead end and would only waste my time. "Tell me right here and now what the answer is, or so help me God, I'll..."

"... you'll what?" He smiled crookedly when I lost my train of thought. Just what exactly was my leverage here?

"Just tell me," I said, leaning in over his desk and staring down at him. "Tell me I didn't just waste two days on this bullshit."

He continued smiling at me for another short moment, looking into my eyes with a thoughtful look. Then, leaning in towards me and taking off his glasses, he met my stare with one of his own. "Are you claiming you learned nothing from the papers I gave you?"

Oh, I learned something. "I learned that you're a bigger prick than I originally thought."

His lips twitched shortly. "Anything else?"

"That... this math doesn't make sense. It's completely useless," I pushed out frustratedly, refusing to let this lesson be about finding out just how stupid I was. What if the answer was right in front of me and he was enjoying this because it had been so obvious?

No, it just couldn't be. If so, I had still done my best, and that was all I could do.

But then, to my surprise, Harry leaned back with a proud smile on his lips. "Correct."

I gaped. I actually gaped. He had said it like he didn't feel at all guilty for letting me waste my precious time on this. "Are you kidding me? You just shaved at least a year off of my life by making me try and understand this, and now you're telling me it's complete nonsense?!"

"And the fact that you recognized that meant you have to have understood what you were looking at," He rebuked. "You might not have understood why, but the fact that you came to the conclusion that it was rubbish meant that you actually understood the primary logic of the problem I gave you. You're more skilled than I thought."

I stared at him, unsure of how to react now. A part of me felt like I wasn't done screaming at him, but another part of me wanted to just slap him and then maybe suck his dick so hard, he finally broke that ever-shitting control he had. Just something to get a thumb under this cocky ass little prick I inexplicably found myself attracted to. Although right now I couldn't remember so much why.

"Couldn't you have taught me that in some other way that didn't include spending two days hurting my head over a problem that was unsolvable?" I gritted out. There I had been, feeling like a total idiot, but once again his stupid ways somehow made it all part of the journey to learning and realizing I was actually smart. What even?

"So cry me a river about it. Studying takes time and commitment – not giving up because something doesn't make sense," He now stood up and made me take a step back as he walked around his desk and met me face on. "The fact that you stuck with it for two whole days without giving up is impressive. Next time you'll know better when to spot a useless case."

Maybe I was looking at one right now. "There won't be a next time. If you pull another stunt like this, I'm going to fucking find a match and burn this whole office down and see how you like it trying to screw your brain together when you feel like all is lost," I replied, poking my finger into his chest. "If you refuse to tutor me properly, then stop wasting my time on this kind of shit. I want real help, not just some bored mathematician testing my commitment."

"Bored?"

"Well, you must be, since you seem to have so much time to plan mean ways to get me to break my head over lessons you refuse to call tutoring," I snapped. Yeah, I went there. I was livid and I wasn't kidding when I said I might just slap him this time for trying to pull some clever stunt on me. How long was he going to test me before he actually gave me some real fucking help? I was running tired of all of his unorthodox tricks.

Harry slowly stood up, watching me stare him down with daggers in my eyes, and walked around his desk with narrowed eyes. Oh, here it fucking came. The explanation that was going to make me feel like I was the one at fault here.

"If I'm going to ever teach you, I need to know if you can keep your emotions in check," He said. His voice had turned into that stern, deep voice that at any other moment would've sent chills down my spine, all the way down to my pussy. Not today, though. Right now I was just plain mad.

"I thought you made it perfectly clear you didn't tutor," I snapped back, mockingly. He wasn't going to stand there and try and defend his reasons with an argument he had long ago dismissed himself.

"Teach. Not tutor," He corrected me. "I'm teaching you how math works. Math takes discipline, it takes keeping your head cool under pressure and when it seems like you've tried everything. The same principles goes for being a doctor."

"I... what?" I barked, taking a step back. How did we get here?

"I told you; I would vouch for you by the end of the summer and get you into the college you want, if I saw you fit enough to have earned it. So far, all I've seen is short-tempered behavior and outbursts at the slightest provocation. If you're going to be a doctor, you can't act like this anymore, Cassandra."

"You are... so full of bullshit," I breathed, clenching my fists and my teeth together. I fucking hated him. He couldn't just steer the argument over to some bigger reason every time I confronted him. Every time I thought he did something for one reason, he was always ten steps ahead, thinking in the long run. It infuriated me. It made me feel dumb and like I was doing everything wrong here when I was trying my damn best. I didn't think it was wrong to feel mad about spending two days of my life trying to solve something, thinking it would make me a better student, only to figure out it wasn't meant to be solved at all.

Yet somehow, Harry made it seem like I was supposed to not care at all and just continue on like it was nothing.

His 'teaching' methods wasn't agreeing with me, and right in this moment, I felt ready to storm upstairs, pack my shit and get the hell out of here, if it wasn't for the fact that I knew I didn't stand a chance by myself. I would never get into the college I wanted without his help. And that made me feel even more pathetic and stupid.

Fuck it all.

"You know, it's probably a good thing that you don't teach," I said, looking at him coldly. "You make your students feel dumb and like they have to bend over backwards to try and keep up with your lessons. You might be right that this attitude won't work once I'm a doctor, but I wouldn't be having these feelings if you would just straight up talk to me. I'm done with your lessons," I declared, pushing away from him and shaking my head. "I'll make it on my own somehow. I'm just done being pushed around by you."

"Cassandra—"

Harry didn't get to finish his sentence and I didn't get to cut it off for him, because something else beat me to it.

There suddenly came a rapid knocking on the door to his office, a sound which we both turned towards. I saw Harry grit his teeth, but then sigh and sit down on top of his desk. "Come in."

The maid Giselle, who I had been having some good conversations with back before I had broken the ice with Harry, stuck her head inside. She looked rather fidgety and didn't appear to want to be here. She knew she had clearly interrupted something that didn't require an audience.

"I-I'm sorry, Mr Devon, but... I thought you'd like to know that your brother's car is pulling up the driveway," She told with a nervous gulp.

My eyes widened. His what? "Your brother is here?" I turned to glare at Harry who's jawline had become so prominent I was wondering if he was crushing his teeth keeping them clenched.

"Thank you, Giselle," He replied in a calm voice – the exact opposite of what he looked. For once, he seemed distraught and on edge.

"Did you know he was coming?" I asked, watching Harry stand up and run his hands through his hair. He ignored my question and instead fixed up his tie, then strode past me to get to the foyer.

I followed him, only because I didn't know what else to do, and watched as Harry pulled the front door open before his brother's car had even parked on the gravel out front. We stood in the doorway, Harry with an impassive, tight mien, and me with a slightly shocked look, waiting as his brother's limo finally came to a halt and a man stepped out to open the car door to the passenger seat in the back. God, to be so rich and pompous one needed a servant to open the fucking door...

The man who had approached me at my old workplace at the coffee shop stepped out, looking every bit as pristine and put-together as Harry usually did. The Devon brothers were no slobs when it came to appearances, yet Harry still managed to look casual and human in his brown suits, whereas his brother stood with an overclass look on his face and managed to look too rich for anything less than a three-piece suit.

Both brothers looked at each other as they stood teen feet apart, Harry on the steps of his house and Richard straightening out his suit after the car ride. Richard looked him over briefly before his eyes fell to me with a raised brow, as if he was almost surprised to see me still here, standing next to his brother. He then turned his chin up and walked towards his brother with a cocky expression.

"Harry, my brother."

"Richard," Harry almost scoffed out. Neither brother made an attempt to shake each other's hands, but rather simply stood across from each other, looking at one another with what I felt was an equal dislike. And I thought running into an ex was uncomfortable...

"Aren't you going to invite me inside?" Richard then suggested with a little, arrogant smile.

"Why are you here?" Harry cut straight to the chase. I suspected he wanted his brother gone as soon as possible as much as I did. Much less invite him inside for a sip of tea.

"Well, you weren't answering my calls," Richard explained with a purse of his lips, as if he was reprimanding his little brother for the rude behavior. "So you really left me with no other choice but to come see you. I figure we need to have a little talk."

Oh, I suddenly started to understand why Harry had started this whole backwards scam against his brother. I had spent less than five minutes in the company of the true Richard Devon, and I already wanted to smack him in his face. More so than I wanted to smack Harry. Which was saying something.

Harry surprised me by chuckling humorlessly. Obviously he was thinking the same thing I was; Normal people would take getting your calls cut as a sign to stay away, but as ever, the Devon family seemed to think everything meant the opposite. Richard Devon simply couldn't miss the opportunity to hand his brother a piece of his mind, even if it meant driving three hours to the country side to Harry's remote 'family heirloom' house.

Harry stepped to the side, and to my even further surprise, allowed his brother to come inside. I watched in astonishment as he led him to his study, which in my opinion had to be a strategic move on Harry's side. A move which's effect was yet to be discovered.

Again, I took my cue to follow them, simply because it seemed like the thing to do, even if I knew these brothers probably didn't need my input. I wasn't mistaken when Richard turned around and looked at me with a surprised look when Harry closed the door after I had stepped in.

"I would think this conversation is best had in privacy, dear brother," Richard mentioned as he looked at me raise a brow. "Perhaps Ms Berry would like to wait outside for a moment."

"Ms Berry stays, since this conversation refers to her as well." Harry stated, giving his brother a firm glare. "You were the one to hire her, after all. Unless you still deny it."

Richard smiled slowly. It was the same kind of smile a man with a plan smiled, and the fact that it wasn't even in his intentions to conceal it was what concerned me. He really had come here with a purpose.

"Very well, then," Richard conceded. "As you wish. But I do think you need to understand the real reasons as to why I chose to... acquire Ms Berry's assistance."

Assistance. He really knew how to make fucking my brother and getting knocked up with his kid sound fancy. I was starting to see what Harry meant when he said he had a silver tongue. He could probably make sex trafficking sound appealing and like a smart business move if he wanted to. If he wanted to.

"Don't make me hold my breath," Harry replied with heavy sarcasm. I couldn't help but grin shortly.

Richard rearranged his cufflinks and then sighed heavily. Almost dramatically. "I won't pretend to be surprise if you already know everything."

"I won't waste my breath then," Harry again facetiously replied.

"Then you surely also know that my last... functionality..." He glanced towards me and I tried to bite my lip to stop myself from smiling, but it really didn't work. "... has run its course. Time's a cruel friend, and I was saddened to hear my time was up. But I wasn't thinking about myself in this case."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Actually narrowed them. I saw the first sign of actual emotion in his eyes, a flash of pure hatred flashing through them. "No."

"Yes."

"No. You can't deceive me," Harry said, slowly walking up to his brother. "You and I know damn well this was never about her. You needed a legitimate heir, and you were out of options. You became desperate."

I was trying to keep up in the conversation. At the mention of a her, my whole train of thought was stilled for a moment. There was a 'her'?

Richard squinted his eyes back at his brother, but realigned his mien quicker than Harry this time. He straightened out, but then let his eyes fall to me. He smiled back.

"Do you know what desperation likes?" He then replied, watching me as he spoke. I glared back and crossed my arms, waiting for him to continue his sentence. "Desperation. I won't deny I hit a point of desperation when I received the news of my infertility. But, as I'm sure you know, brother..." He slowly glanced around his study and smirked slowly. "Every problem pertains a solution."

"And she was yours," Harry gave a brief head tilt towards me. I wish I could say I was surprised, but this was all old news to me. Richard had needed me as much as I had needed Harry. It was the perfect setup.

"She was a desperate solution to a desperate problem," He stated, finally turning his eyes away from me. I pretended not to feel the stab in my chest. "And had it not been for my PI's sloppy work–" or Harry's attention to detail, "–the plan would've worked because she was more desperate than I was. What I failed to realize was how petty you are."

Harry stared flatly at his brother as Richard looked at him with disappointment. Again, I had a feeling there was more to this story that Harry had kept from me.

Then, Harry smirked slowly. He turned and walked over to his desk and took a relaxed lean up against it as his brother watched him with discontent.

"As the saying goes, dear brother," Harry mimicked him, "A punishment that fits the crime."

At that, Richard laughed. Shaking his head, he walked closer up to his brother, almost so close that their noses touched. "You still haven't gotten over your jealousy, I see."

"And you still haven't gotten over your arrogance."

I didn't understand what the hell they were talking about, but the brothers seemed to be deep into a subject that had haunted the both of them for ages.

"You never could get over the fact that our parents chose me over you," Richard declared. "I won't apologize for their choices."

"And you still haven't realized that unlike you, my whole life's dependency doesn't rely on my parents' approval," Harry fired back with a crooked smile. "I won't apologize for my intellect."

"Oh, please," Richard said, taking a step back. He smiled back, then briefly glanced around at Harry's study again, looking at all of his work. "Hasn't it?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. Then, standing up, he glared down at his brother. They were almost the same height, but I realized Harry had just about an inch or two on him. Probably in more ways than one. "I believe this conversation is over."

"Yes. I do believe it is," Richard agreed, taking another step back. Then, straightening out his back with a firm movement, he turned around but then laid eyes on me. He halted in his steps and then smiled slowly.

"You know, I knew when I picked you that you were desperate," He said, tallying up my size. I clenched my teeth and resisted the urge to lunge at him. "But I guess I underestimated just how desperate."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I growled out, taking a step forward. I was actually holding myself back from punching him. I never knew a person could be this naturally condescending without even trying.

"Well... you're still here," He replied, simply, with that arrogant little smirk. "I suppose my brother had more to offer you than I did."

Oh, that was fucking it.

"Yeah, he did," I snarled and stepped right up into his face. I glared up at him, but then lowered my gaze and looked condescendingly at his crotch. "A dick that fucking works."

And with that, I stormed out of the office, slamming the door open and marching up the stairs. I was so done after today, and that was all I had left to say.

I didn't hear Harry bid his brother goodbye, but I heard from my room the crunch of car tires driving off from a distance. I faintly heard the front door close, but I honestly couldn't care anymore. These brothers were a fucking piece of work.

And I was so done here.

• • •

– Which means the next ten chapters are filled with nothing.